


Imitation Is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

by whatthefuckisasweep



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Season 15, Simmons is really really really pissed, Temple tries really hard to be an evil mastermind, but he's a smart cookie, grif is tricked by gene, once again temples own hubris is his downfall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:46:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23269411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefuckisasweep/pseuds/whatthefuckisasweep
Summary: “I want you to go down there and… impersonate… our friend Simmons. Lure the orange one into the backrooms. Lock him in there. I want to break these assholes before we go through with our plan. Especially Simmons. Fucker’s kind of crafty. Tried to pretend he was on our side.”“So,” Gene says, rubbing his hands together evilly. “I’ll get to test out my super cool acting skills and make Simmons pissed.”“And I get to monologue about my tragic past.”“Aaaaaand I’m on it,” Gene calls, already running out the door. “Suck it, Simmons!”-----------Instead of immediately putting Grif in the cell with the others, Temple decides he wants to take Simmons' happily ever after too.
Relationships: Dexter Grif/Dick Simmons
Comments: 5
Kudos: 35





	Imitation Is the Sincerest Form of Flattery

Temple eyes the security cam feed with a dark intensity as he spots a plump orange soldier make his way down the corridors of his underwater lair. The color is enough to make the hairs on his arms stand up straight with an invisible chill from the past. He knows, surely, without a doubt, that what is in front of him, under every circumstance, cannot be his best friend. He knows. But somewhere deep, deep, deep down inside him, he can’t help but hope. 

“Temple,” Bucky starts, stepping forward. “Who the  _ hell _ is that?”

“I believe it’s their orange one,” Temple replies coldly. “He’s trying to save the others or something. Can’t really tell with all the erratic shit he’s doing.”

“Guy looks more interested in eating our whole fish supply than saving the lousy prisoners.” Surge grumbles.

“What should we do?” Asks Cronut. “Throw him in the cramped cells with the rest of the sweaty guys?”

Temple seems to mull it over with a soft ‘hmmmmm’. Everyone watches as he stares at the screen silently for a dramatic effect. 

“No, not yet, my dear Cronut.” Temple says, a dastardly smile growing. “In fact, I think I have a much better idea.” 

After a perfectly timed evil beat, he slowly turns his helmet towards Gene. The Blues and Reds look at each other with confused expressions behind their visors as Temple begins to burst out in a fit of rehearsed maniacal laughter which then turns into several strained coughs which then turns into an awkward silence that draws on way too long. 

“Uhhhhhhh,” Gene glances around. “... Are you going to tell us that idea?” 

Temple coughs one more time into his fist. “Oh. Right, right. Yeah. Sorry. About that. Got, uh, got caught up in the moment. The idea is that I send you.” 

“Oh!” Gene perks up excitedly. “Do I get to kill him, sir? Shove him in the cell?”

“No, no, no, no. Not yet. You gotta draw it out, man. Make it worthwhile. That maroon one - Simmons, right? - you said he wouldn’t stop talking about another soldier.”

“Yeah,” Gene says slowly, starting to get what Temple is implying. “Grif, I think.”

“Yeah, yeah. Something like that.” Temple nods. “I want you to go down there and…  _ impersonate _ … our friend Simmons. Lure the orange one into the backrooms. Lock him in there. I want to break these assholes before we go through with our plan. Especially Simmons. Fucker’s kind of crafty. Tried to pretend he was on our side.”

“So,” Gene says, rubbing his hands together evilly. “I’ll get to test out my super cool acting skills  _ and _ make Simmons pissed.” 

“And I get to monologue about my tragic past.”

“Aaaaaand I’m on it,” Gene calls, already running out the door. “Suck it, Simmons!”

“Perfect,” Temple exclaims, turning to the rest of them. “The rest of you, go guard the cells with Sarge to make sure the Reds and Blues don’t escape. I’ll be down there momentarily.”

With scattered sounds of agreement, the rest roll out. Temple looks at the screen once more. He takes a deep breath. This is his chance to get Biff back in some twisted way. This is the chance to get Grif on his side.

* * *

Meanwhile, Grif is raiding the fridge. Fish, fish, fish and more fish. God he was so hungry. He wonders if the rest are hungry. Probably not if they’re eating fish all the time. Hm. He likes fish. Fish is good. When’s the last time he’s had-

“Grif.” Says someone in a deep familiar voice that makes his heart jump.

Grif flinches so quickly he bumps his head on the top of the inside of the fridge and screams like a little girl, landing on his ass. He looks up at the man in front of him, eyes glazed with fear. Oh god! Lanky! Tall! Maroon armor! The horror! Of course this was how it was going to all…. Wait. Lanky, tall, maroon armor?! **“SIMMONS?!”**

“Yes, it is I, your close friend and possible love interest, S-”

“SIMMONS!” Grif jumps up and immediately opens his arms and goes in for a huge bear hug. He’s not sure if he’s still hallucinating or not until he actually  _ feels _ flesh underneath his arms. Holy fuck! Actual human connection! “Oh my god, Simmons! Simmons, I really need- I need to tell you I’m-”

“I forgive you, Grif.” Simmons says, all sweet and too good to be true. He hugs back a little too tight. “It wasn’t your fault. None of it was.”

“Oh,” Grif says, blinking and pulling away. Wow, that felt really good to hear! Simmons wasn’t mad at him! But it wasn’t true. “No, no. It was! I’m-- I should’ve went with you guys. You could have been killed! You could have been hurt, you could have--”

“Shhh.” He puts a finger up to Grif’s helmet. “You talk way too much.”

“I... I do?” That was not the response he expected. "But all we ever do is stand around and-"

“Yes, you do. How about we quit talking and get moving? Come follow me, I’ve got something to show you.” He takes Grif’s hand and tugs him away from the fridge.

Grif’s eyes lock where their hands meet. He hasn’t had this kind of touch in so long. The feeling of someone else’s fingers intertwined with his has his heart doing flips. He wants to hold Simmons’ hand for the rest of time. But- “But, Simmons, I-- I need to tell you-”

“Grif, I told you to stop apologizing.”

“No, it’s about-” Locus! It’s about Locus! Simmons needs to know the plan!

“I said _quiet_ , babe,” Simmons hums out as he pulls him into a backroom and shuts the door with a soft click.

Grif’s eyes widen and his jaw drops. He’s not sure if he’s still hallucinating.

“ **_Babe?!_ ** ” 

* * *

Simmons wants to stick his hands through the holes between the bars and strangle Temple with every fiber of his being. The fucker had just walked in with the rest of his shitty ripoff gang and that never meant good news.

“Hello, all. I hope you’re enjoying your stay down here in the cells.”

“What do you want, Temple?” Tucker spits bitterly. 

“I want, uh, hmmm,” He pretends to think about it. “I want you to shut the fuck up. This isn't about you for once. It’s about Simmons.”

“What?!” Simmons growls. “What do you want from me?”

“Many things. You tried to trick us, Simmons.”

“It’s only because you’re a bunch of evil conniving fucks.”

“Awwww. Thanks,” Temple says sarcastically as he hits a button on a switch he’s holding. Simmons notices it bears some resemblance to a toy. “But I’m afraid not everyone thinks that.”

A small screen descends from the cells, then a projector. The device flickers to life, showing a small room with two soldiers in it. One orange, one maroon. Simmons would recognize that color anywhere. His blood freezes.

“...Grif?!”

“That’s right. It’s your precious, precious Grif.” 

“But how did you--”

“He came to rescue you dumbasses! Isn’t that sweet?”

“You better let him go, or I’m going to fucking-”

“Oh, silly Red! We aren’t going to hurt him! Right, men?” He looks at the Blues and Reds who all nod in agreement. He walks a few dramatic steps forward so that his helmet is nearly touching the steel bars. Simmons wants to stab Temple a hundred times over. “Oh no, no, no, no, Simmons. I thought you were the smart one! We’re not going to hurt him at all. We’re going to…  _ recruit him _ .”

“Recruit?” Simmons scoffs, his words sounding like acid. “Like he’d join the likes of you.”

“If I were you, I wouldn’t speak so soon.” Temple unmutes the sound, and the color drains from Simmons’ face. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, so I have no excuse for writing this. I just wanted more Gene, Grif, Simmons angst, yknow? I know Gene is pretty OOC here, but I had to make him that way for it to work! I hope y'all like chapter one.


End file.
